


Amortentia Sequel

by CrazyJanaCat



Series: Harrymort One-shots [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Modification, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Marriage, Gender or Sex Swap, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Loss of Virginity, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Painful Sex, Partial Mind Control, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 23:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12692385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat
Summary: It had been two years since Harry had been saved from the Dursleys by Voldemort, and he had never been happier his entire life.





	Amortentia Sequel

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by JedaKnight27

It had been two years since Harry had been saved from the Dursleys by Voldemort, and he had never been happier his entire life. Sure, he still didn’t agree with the man, and he sometimes had his doubts the Dark Lord even really loved him, but he was being cared for and never needed for anything with his attentive lover.

For the past two years, Harry was healthier than ever. He lived in the most luxurious mansion he’d ever put eyes on, which honestly looked more like a palace fit for the Queen herself. There were House-elves ready to obey his every whim. Food was never an issue and his personal Elf, Tipsy, always made sure Harry ate enough vegetables instead of gorging himself on sweets. The gardens were immense, and Harry loved walking through them. The library had more books than he could ever dream of reading in his life and he even had the best, fastest and most expensive race-brooms to ride whenever he wanted.

It was true he didn’t see a lot of people during his days. Only a very select group of Death Eaters knew the location of the Dark Lord’s mansion, and Voldemort was usually busy at the ministry, or out subjugating some more mudbloods. Knowing his friends were out there, likely getting slaughtered, or thrown into Azkaban always filled Harry’s chest with immense guilt, but Voldemort had told him that he would do what he could to keep those Harry held dear alive, and for that, Harry was grateful.

Besides, he could never stay worried for long when his nights were always filled with the most passionate and kinky sex anyone could wish for.

In the past two years, he and Voldemort had literally done _everything_. They’d fucked in all possible positions, in every single room of the mansion, as well as in nearly all of Malfoy Manor’s rooms – in the process likely scarring both father and son for life, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad about that – and at the Ministry of Magic. They’d even fucked in the middle of muggle London on the corner of one of the busiest streets, under a very powerful Notice-Me-Not Charm. He thought he’d seen a few people staring at them, but that might have been his imagination. Not that it mattered in the end.

Harry had been tied to the bed, chained in some empty cell in Azkaban while Voldemort took him as the Dementors watched and filled Harry’s mind with the worst horrors. They’d fucked during a Death Eater meeting, with all of Voldemort’s followers watching them, and Harry had even sucked the Dark Lord off underneath his desk while he met with the American President of Magic.

Bondage was always a fan favourite for both of them and it was used regularly, so were several kinds of toys, gags, blindfold, clamps, whips, cock-rings and cock-cages. Voldemort _loved_ denying Harry his orgasm for hours until the younger wizard cried and begged for release. They had even gotten to the point where Harry could come while being forced to stay limp inside a cock-cage. In fact, it happened more and more often Voldemort wouldn’t take the contraption off for entire weeks. By now, Harry often forgot it was there when he had it on, only taking notice of it when his cock tried to get hard during sex.

Sounding was another one they did often, though at this point, Harry could easily take Voldemort’s middle finger into his urethra without too much of a stretching, and they had already moved on to trying two fingers at once. It left Harry crying in pain, but even to that, he was getting used. Voldemort often told him he would soon be ready to take a cock in there too, though Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

They’d dabbled in Watersports, with Harry drinking the Dark Lord’s piss straight from the source. Voldemort had pissed inside Harry’s arse and all over him on a few occasions. Harry had licked the Dark Lord’s arse clean after he’d taken a shit and even ate a whole turd, though he had immediately put that on the ‘Not to be repeated’ list, and Voldemort had allowed him since he didn’t really see any eroticism in it either.

Harry had been fucked by Nagini’s tail many times, and eaten her out a few times as well, twice it happened at the same time. It turned out Voldemort had quite the voyeuristic streak. He loved watching Harry masturbate or fuck himself on the plethora of toys they kept in their bedroom. He loved it even more to have Harry wear a strong, thick vibrator underneath his robes when they went out in public.

They’d done partner-swapping a few times, though Harry really didn’t like watching Voldemort screw Bellatrix into the mattress while he himself was spit roasted between the Lestrange brothers as they fucked his mouth and arse simultaneously. Voldemort had ignored his pleas to put it on the No Repeat list, saying he loved seeing Harry used and dripping come too much to give it up. Harry hadn’t understood the appeal of watching someone else fuck your lover, but he hadn’t brought it up again either. He wanted to make Voldemort happy after all, and if letting some faceless Death Eater at his arse was the way, then so be it.

Harry liked the days where Voldemort didn’t leave, but instead spend the whole day in the room, fucking Harry on every surface, drinking several vitality potions to keep going for hours on end until he had Harry crying in overstimulation as he came dry over and over again, completely spent.

Sometimes, Voldemort would use a spell to enlarge his cock to twice the size it was normally and fuck Harry until his hole was gaping far enough Voldemort could easily fit his two arms in him. Other times, he used a potion to come so much that Harry ended up looking eight months pregnant. The Dark Lord would plug him up after those times and keep him swollen with his seed for the entire day, whispering how Harry no doubt wished the seed would take and he’d get knocked up with Voldemort’s child for real. The thought of carrying Voldemort’s child always had him coming hard.

Twice now, Voldemort had made Harry take a de-aging potion. The first time, he was back to his fourteen year-old self, and they had played out the Graveyard at the end of Harry’s fourth year. Only this time, Harry ended up bent over one of the graves and fucked hard from behind.

The second time, Voldemort had taken it further and turned Harry ten years old. He had turned one of the spare rooms into a child’s room, with plush toys and stuffed animals and even a child’s broom. The room was intensely childish, with moving animals on the light green sheets of the small bed and a Golden Snitch night light hovering over the bedside table. Voldemort had fucked Harry’s small mouth ruthlessly while thrusting the handle of the child’s broom in and out of the tiny body’s arsehole.

The worst, however had to be the Full Moons, where Voldemort always took Harry out to Greyback’s pack and let them all use him for the entire night while he simply watched with burning red eyes filled with lust and something else, something dark and terrifying. It always succeeded to awaken the part in Harry that still fought this irrational love and trust he felt towards the Dark Lord. He would struggle and scream as the first knot locked him to the vicious werewolf that pumped him full of the first out of many loads of cum he would receive during the night. He’d cry and beg for mercy from his merciless lover, but he never received it/

Harry always ended up passing out near the end, and when he woke up, he was back in his and Voldemort’s bedroom, getting fisted by his older lover while the man jacked himself off, telling how great Harry had been and how amazing it had looked. Though he was sore, filthy and leaking gallons of were-come, Harry always relaxed back into the mattress while Voldemort’s fist worked his gaping hole even wider open and told himself that clearly, Voldemort did love him if he got this affected by the sight of Harry getting wrecked.

He ignored the tiny voice telling him Voldemort was only using him.

.              .              .              .              .

Harry had just gotten out of the shower and was still drying his hair, the rest of his body as naked as the day he was born, aside from two shiny golden nipple rings he had gotten for their first year anniversary, as Voldemort walked into the room. As Harry had been told to do, he immediately dropped the towel and fell to his knees, bowing his head down respectfully.

“My Lord,” he murmured.

As he glanced up, he saw the bright glint of victory Voldemort always wore in his eyes whenever Harry was on his knees before him, or spread out underneath him, desperate and begging. Harry knew it was Voldemort’s need for dominance over everything and anything that caused this. The man loved seeing others submit to him, loved wrestling control from whoever dared standing in front of him and he loved seeing Harry especially at his mercy.

“Stand, my sweet Harry. My visit is far too joyous an occasion for formalities.”

Harry blinked in surprise and stood up, looking at his lover expectantly.

“Something to celebrate?” he asked, smiling seductively.

If there was something to celebrate, he sincerely hoped Voldemort would feast on his body. The man’s grin became wider and he stepped up to Harry, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist and letting his hand trail down to the teen’s arse to squeeze and massage the cheeks. Harry moaned softly and leaned into the touches, his hands curling into the front of Voldemort’s robes. The Dark Lord leaned closer and started biting and licking Harry’s jaw and down to his throat.

“I’m getting married,” Voldemort murmured against Harry’s pulse.

Harry tensed, his eyes growing wide in horror and shock as his blood froze in his veins. His fists tightened in the rich black fabric, and he stayed motionless, even as Voldemort continued laving his neck and shoulders with attention, and the first cold finger dipped in between his cheeks to circle his hole, ready to push inside.

“When?” Harry croaked.

There was a soft chuckle, just as Voldemort pushed his finger into Harry’s tense body.

“In two weeks,” he answered.

Harry closed his eyes as tears slid down his cheeks against his will. _Voldemort had never cared for him at all. He_ _’d been nothing but a fun distraction to the man, a plaything. A conquest to prove his power to everyone else._ Harry felt dirty and used as he roughly pulled himself free from Voldemort’s arms and mouth and he turned away, unwilling to look his lover in the eye. Even feeling as betrayed as he did at the moment, Harry still loved him, and he knew he’d forgive Voldemort if he looked him in the eyes.

“Congratulations,” he whispered brokenly as he picked up his towel and wrapped it around his waist. “So who is the lucky girl? She must be very happy to have caught the Dark Lord’s eye. Her family is probably _so proud_.”

It was spoken with a bitterness Harry hadn’t even known he was capable of. He tensed as two strong arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him back into Voldemort’s clothed chest.

“She doesn’t know it yet,” Voldemort hissed hotly in his ear, making Harry’s heart thump eagerly in his chest and his cock instantly twitched to life. “In fact, she doesn’t even exist yet. Soon, though. Tomorrow. After all, it was my own law that every healthy witch or wizard must procreate.”

It had been one of the first laws Voldemort had pushed through. All witches and wizards should have their first child before 25, and every couple was required to sire two at least. They could only be excused from this law for medical reasons, and needed Ministry documents, signed by a Healer to get away with it without a fine, and even they had to blood-adopt.

Communicating with Muggles in any form or manner was also illegalized, and muggleborns were either killed, or taken from their parents at infancy. Those were the children open for adoption to those unable to have kids themselves.

“I thought you would be able to get out of that,” Harry muttered. “You made the law after all, so why not just decide against it?”

“I need to set the proper example,” Voldemort explained patiently.

Harry relaxed a little at that and he leaned against Voldemort’s chest with a soft sigh. He still didn’t like that Voldemort was going to marry some girl, but he understood the necessity. Then, something else Voldemort said struck him.

“You said she didn’t exist yet,” he said, turning his head to look at Voldemort.

Voldemort smirked and dipped down for a soft kiss on Harry’s lips.

“And she won’t until Harry Potter stops existing,” he answered.

This had Harry tense up again, his eyes growing wide in shock. His chest tightened in fear. Would Voldemort kill him now? He wasn’t sure he could believe his lover would, but on the other hand, he had tried several times before he whisked Harry away from his abusive relatives.

“I’ve sent for a Healer from India who has perfected Permanent Sex Change Rituals.”

For a moment, Harry was confused, but then reality hit him like a brick wall and he stumbled away from Voldemort, his eyes panicked and wide.

“You want to turn me into a girl?” he asked shrilly.

Voldemort’s eyes darkened and he stepped forward, grabbing Harry’s upper arm roughly and pushed Harry to the bed. The young man yelped in surprise, tripping over his own feet and he fell backwards, his towel falling off as his knees hit the side of the bed.

“What is the problem, Harry?” Voldemort asked cruelly, grasping his young lover’s half-hard cock. “It isn’t as if you’d miss this useless little prick, would you? We don’t even use it aside from fingering the hole.”

To prove his point, Voldemort dug the tip of his pointer finger inside the slit, making Harry whimper and try to buck his hips away. The Dark Lord just grabbed his hips and with his other hand and flipped him over, his finger slipping back out of Harry as he was suddenly turned on his stomach. Instantly, one hand strayed to play with his hole, dipping two fingers instantly in to the first knuckle while he grabbed Harry’s balls roughly with his other hand and squeezed them until Harry was crying out in pain. He wasn’t against mixing a bit of pain in his pleasure, seeing as Voldemort liked being rough, but Harry did prefer at least _some_ pleasure present, thank you very much.

“Those won’t be missed either,” Voldemort hissed, tugging on Harry’s balls as if he wanted to tear them off. “You won’t ever know what it feels like to spill your virile seed into a woman’s womb. In fact, you won’t ever know what it feels like to have your cock inside a tight, hot hole. You _are_ the hole Harry. And as a woman, you will have one more to give me pleasure.”

Harry was crying at this point. Humiliation and betrayal turned his body cold, even as the stimulations of Voldemort’s deft fingers worked on his insides, massaging his prostate until he was a gasping and writhing mess, his cock hard and leaking, trapped between his stomach and bed.

“And won’t that be enough, my dear Harry?” Voldemort whispered, lowering his voice into a seductive purr as he pressed himself against Harry’s back while adding a third finger inside him. “Imagine what it would be like. No more Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, no longer being watched, being called the Dark Lord’s Whore behind your back, no longer the traitor of the Light. Instead, you’ll be my highly regarded wife. We’ll be wed within two weeks, and by the end of the year, you will be swelling with a child. _Our child,_ Harry. _Our baby._ ”

By the end of his little monologue, Voldemort pulled his hands away from Harry and settled them on the young man’s hips. A moment later, his cock nudged against Harry’s entrance and slid in easily. Harry’s eyes closed and he moaned loudly.

“I can already imagine how great your cunt would feel around me,” Voldemort whispered hotly in his ear. “Spasming in intense orgasm as I fill it with my potent seed, right into your young and fertile womb, ready to be impregnated by me…”

Harry moaned louder, but it was only partly from the savage thrusts that jarred his body as he was speared on Voldemort’s cock. The image the Dark Lord’s words put before his mind’s eye was amazing. He could already see himself, wearing some beautiful robes in bright green, soft blue, or deep red, none of them concealing his (hers) balloon belly.

 _“Yes!_ _”_ he cried out, coming just from the thought of carrying Voldemort’s child. “Please! I want your baby inside me. I want you to impregnate me! Come inside of me!”

With a grunt, Voldemort did exactly that.

.              .              .              .              .

While a Sex Change with magical means was not as complicated and time-consuming as it was by muggle means, it was still a stretch for the wedding to be planned in only two weeks time. Still, the wedding went on as planned, in a large, public setting. Everyone that was anyone was present, sitting in the large chamber that was chosen to tie the bride and groom with an ancient Bonding Ritual.

Harry’s body was not her own, being wrapped in the tight-fitting white wedding dress. Her waist was slim, a large chest pushing outwards on her small frame. Her face had become more feminine, and her scar was temporarily hidden behind a strong glamour and the bangs of her long, glossy black hair that reached down to mid-waist.

The Ritual went on without a hitch, with Voldemort and the newly dubbed Hortensia Black, Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Harry had been in pain almost the entire time. Her body was still new and the new parts were aching still, as was the tight corset crushing her ribs and constricting her lungs.

After, they went to the ballroom to celebrate along with the Death Eaters, while all other guests were sent out again. In the middle of the banquet, two of the lower tier Death Eaters, who hadn’t been invited to the wedding, walked in, with a struggling teenaged boy in between them. They deposited him in front of Voldemort and Harry, who to her horror, recognized the unruly mop of dark hair and tearful green eyes. It was him! Or well, him before he’d become a she…

“Wh-where am I?” the imposter asked in a hoarse, broken voice.

He was naked and shivering. His skinny frame was littered in bruises and cuts, and Harry even caught sight of semen mingling with the blood and dirt on her double. It was a sorry sight to say the least.

“Wh-what’s going on? Why can’t I remember anything? Who are you? Who am I?” the boy continued, sobbing in terror as his questions spilled from him.

“I am Lord Voldemort, and you… You are Harry Potter,” Voldemort announced, smirking very smugly, making the real Harry tense. “You were the leader of the Light faction in the past war, which you lost. Now, you are my prisoner. You have been stripped of your magic as punishment, and now you will serve a new purpose.”

It was then that Harry realized that the poor boy in front of her wasn’t just someone who was transformed to look like her former self, but likely a muggle, by the sounds of it, one that had been Obliviated to the point of not having any memories in the slightest left. And Voldemort had decided to force Harry’s old identity on him to tie up loose ends.

“What purpose?” the boy asked warily, with tears still streaming down his battered face.

From between his bangs, Harry could get a peek of her own famous scar and she couldn’t help but be impressed by whoever had done the transfiguration necessary to make this boy look like her former self. She wondered who it had been. Was it her husband, or one of his followers?

“You will serve as the Greyback Pack’s bitch,” Voldemort told him gleefully.

Fenrir Greyback, who had been sitting at the far side of the room stood up, along with two of his betas, all three grinning eagerly, stood from his seat. He strode over quickly and stopped in front of Voldemort and his new young wife.

“You’re too kind, My Lord,” he said, grinning wolfishly as he leered openly at the quaking boy.

Harry closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep herself from speaking up. Voldemort seemed to notice and handed her a crystal cup of wine. Harry smiled weakly at him and accepted it. As she drank, the horror and doubts she felt dimmed until they were almost entirely drowned in a near obsessive need to make her husband happy. Her wonderful husband.

Part of her was screaming at her to fight the Amortentia she was well aware had been mixed in her drink, but she ignored it in favour of focusing on Voldemort, who had leaned over to place open-mouthed, hungry kisses to her jaw and throat. She moaned softly and grabbed his bicep. She hoped all this formal drivel was soon over and they could retire to their room for their wedding night. Her unused, virgin pussy was already dripping with need.

.              .              .              .              .

“It seems I even got your scent on point, my dear Hortensia,” Voldemort spoke as they were finally in their room alone. “Fenrir didn’t seem to notice anything off with the squib filth I handed over to him today.”

Harry looked as the Dark Lord shrugged out his outer robed and sat down on his favourite chair next to the fireplace. The man smiled at her and held out his hand.

“Come here, Hortensia,” he ordered softly.

“Please. At least when we’re alone. Call me Harry,” the newly turned female murmured, even as she obeyed.

“Why would I do that, when it was ‘Harry’ that I just handed to Greyback?” Voldemort asked her.

His eyes were glinting in dark amusement, and a cruel smile pulled at his lipless mouth. Harry swallowed and fell to her knees in front of the man’s spread legs, already knowing what he wanted of her. She fumbled a little with the difficult formal trousers, but eventually got them opened and she pulled out her husband’s already hard cock. Her cunt throbbed at the sight, but she ignored her own arousal in favour of putting her Lord in her mouth.

“You no longer are Harry Potter, my dear. Nor should you want to,” Voldemort told her before groaning as Harry took him to the hilt, opening her throat for him with practiced ease. “Personally, I like you much better like this. I’m not homosexual after all. Your body was never the reason why I was aroused, but that is clearly something that will change with this.”

Harry felt as if a large block of ice sat inside her chest and she instantly drew away, her eyes wide in horror at those words. _‘He never loved you,_ _’_ the tiny voice in her mind whispered. _‘He_ _’s been dozing you with fucking Amortentia and used you for all you were worth!_ _’_

“What?” Voldemort asked annoyed, glaring at Harry for stopping her fellatio.

“You never cared about me, did you?” Harry whispered brokenly.

For a moment, Voldemort stared at her with wide red eyes in surprise, before he threw his head back and released a terrible, high-pitched laugh. Harry flushed red as it still managed to make the butterflies in her stomach flutter pleasantly.

“Get naked and get on the bed, you dumb whore,” Voldemort told her, still chuckling.

Harry wanted to deny him, but her body was already moving at its own accord. To her horror, she realized that even though her mind was now struggling against the potion in her system, she still couldn’t fight it off. Her body, while new in appearance, was still perfectly trained to obey the Dark Lord’s every command. Like Pavlov’s Dog, she felt her arousal rise to the point of unbearable as she watched her husband’s darkened, hungry, lust-filled eyes, watching her take off her wedding dress and lie back on the bed.

“So wet already,” Voldemort murmured as he crawled over her, smirking at her. “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already dripping so much!”

Harry’s face flushed bright red in shame as her husband laughed cruelly and pressed one cool hand between her legs against her new womanhood, making her moan softly and cant her hips to get more of it. For the past week and a half, Voldemort had often played with her new anatomy, though he had yet to fuck her since her change. Next to that, he’d enjoyed watching her finger herself daily, so it wasn’t as if Harry was unaware about what pleasures her vagina could give her.

“I’m going to fuck you long and hard,” Voldemort whispered hotly, biting the shell of her ear. “I’m going to come inside you again and again until your belly is swollen with my heir, until your cunt is saggy and used.”

Harry closed her eyes and whimpered in need. Her mind was struggling hard to escape now, screaming in horror while her body gave in easily under Voldemort’s commands.

Just like their first time together, the Dark Lord decided to forgo any preparation or stretching and simply lined the fat head of his cock with the virgin entrance. For a tense second, the two stared into each other’s eyes, tearful emerald meeting glittering, sadistic bloodstone.

The next second, Harry screamed.

Her voice was high-pitched and slightly breathless, even as she voiced her agony while her husband slowly forced his thick member into her pussy, stretching it wider than she thought possible. He stopped halfway, as he met more resistance, and slowly started pulling out again until only the bulbous head of his cock was still inside the hot, tight cunt.

A new wail was torn from Harry’s throat as he thrust back inside, this time ripping through her maidenhead and burying his shaft all the way to the hilt inside Harry’s small body. He stayed still for a few second, his eyes closed in bliss while his young wife sobbed quietly in pain.

Before the boy-turned-girl could get used to the thick shaft inside her now bleeding opening, Voldemort slowly drew back and started an unforgiving rhythm, pounding into the smaller body beneath him without a care for his young wife’s comfort. Harry cried and moaned in pain at every movement, but didn’t struggle. She still loved him, the Amortentia in her body demanding her to simply submit to the subjects of her unnatural affections.

After a few more minutes, however, she finally started to feel good. Her soft moans of tentative pleasure mixed in the pain hung in the air along the grunts of her husband and the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Slowly but surely, Harry’s voice grew in volume as the pleasure she felt increased. By the time she was reaching her first climax, she was moaning and screaming with abandon as Voldemort fucked into her tight pussy mercilessly. Her legs wrapped tightly around her husband’s hips pulling him closer against her body as her arms wound themselves around his shoulders. Moaning himself, the Dark Lord leaned down, pressing his lips against Harry’s and pushing his tongue inside her pliant mouth. His kiss was as violent as his hips were, leaving his young wife a breathless, whimpering mess below him.

“Ah! My… My Lord!” Harry keened highly, her back arching of the bed as she came violently around the thick cock hammering into her.

Voldemort didn’t even pause as he fucked her through her orgasm, drawing it out for several minutes. Harry’s body slackened below him, her muscles trembling in exhaustion, slick with a layer of shiny sweat of their coupling. The sight made him growl in lust and he drove into her even harder, chasing his own completion.

“You’ll take it all,” he grunted, his hammering violent and rapid, making Harry’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “You’ll fucking take it and give me an heir.”

“YES!” Harry shrieked. “Make me pregnant! Give me your baby!”

The thought of having her husband’s child growing in her new womb was enough for her to have her second orgasm. Shudders wracked her body and her cunt clenched up tightly, setting off her Lord’s orgasm as well and he spilled his seed deep inside her.

Lord Voldemort continued thrusting into her at a slow, lazy pace as she milked his cock with her quivering pussy. Her body was completely spent and aching from their coupling. Sated and happy, Harry flopped bonelessly on the mattress as her husband rolled off her with a quiet groan. Her eyes fluttered closed, but she forced them back open as she felt the bed shift and Voldemort got up.

“I’m taking a shower,” her husband announced lazily. “You stay here and pray for a son.”

Harry nodded and closed her eyes again as she snuggled under the soft, fluffy blankets. A son. Yes, she wanted to bear her husband a son. One that would look just as handsome as him, and would be just as smart and charming. She hoped they would name him Tom.

With a smile on her face, Lady Hortensia Voldemort drifted off to sleep, her hands protectively pressed against her belly, where her husband’s seed slowly took root. Her dreams that night were filled with laughing and playing children, all with dark hair and pale skin, their eyes a dark, deep burgundy.

She never realized the voice in the back of her mind that had always warned her of her husband had fallen completely silent for the first time in two years.

 


End file.
